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by sinsajo



Category: Crash Bandicoot (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Gen, Other, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, Reader-Insert, Worldbuilding, genderless reader characterization, non-human reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-18 22:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20646719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinsajo/pseuds/sinsajo
Summary: "There was a moment of silence then, in which the subtle sounds of activity at the other side of the door were audible. You could hear a bored child starting to cry, a distressed father hushing it, hurried footsteps, comforting words. Could hear the soft way Norm was breathing as his gaze lingered on a large flower you had only seen in books, supposedly carnivorous. You hadn’t realized your own gaze was fixed on him until he turned to look at you, clear eyes curious. You just blinked, unable to look away from those clear, pretty eyes."Pre-Nitro Kart Canon set in Fenomena, at a time when neither of the Norms were known yet as the racing champions of the planet. The story will focus on the reader rekindling the could-have-been friendship they once had with the Norms (small Norm more specifically), and the subsequent romance that blooms thanks to it.





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**Author's Note:**

> Genderless reader characterization: AKA all readers welcome! you can be female, male, or anyone in between and beyond. I didn't add any gendered identificators, and you also won't find bits that you have to complete in your mind (e/c, h/c, or spaces like ____) for an easier, smoother reading experience. I'm taking several creative freedoms with the source material, so heads up with that.  
Please note you were born in Fenomena, and thus are an alien, not a human. I didn't specify any race either, seeing as I'm still not sure what to make of the Norm's race as it is, or the mysterious figures found in the game. So any way you choose to visualize yourself as an alien is Valid.  
Hope it's enjoyable! And please, any constructive criticism is welcome.  
Also, as an Important Note: this is set before he was knee deep in the mime thing, so he just looks. You know. No hat or facepaint in this chapter.

Every five years, the vast city of _ Khuurai _became a place of major activity, definitely more so than was usual. The amount of merchants out in the streets seemed to double overnight, the humble vendor’s foreheads slick with sweat as they bared the immense heat for prolonged periods of time - all for the sake of selling their goods to the endless waves of tourists coming from all corners of the planet. The state of festivity was almost tangible even in the most silent areas surrounding the metropolis, places that for just a few days, nearly resembled ghost districts.

It was the _Aion Championship_ \- a welcome celebration to pause their rather hectic lifestyle. It was a perfect time to earn some extra cash placing bets, it was a great excuse to not attend work or school, a time dedicated to the largest, best paid sport in the planet: competitive racing. Even those that personally did not enjoy such a thing came around to peek at the live, constant transmission of it in their homes’ television, if only just to find out who was winning, who was losing, who was this year’s favorites.

This year’s favorites… You knew them well enough.

Their names were Norm. A tall, large man, and a shorter, slimmer man, sharing the same name, but not much else. There was something about them that had made the crowd not immediately flare up at their presence (perhaps because of the clear lack of racing spirit that the smaller one exhibited) but after winning most of yesterday’s challenges, the general public had learned to both fear them in the racetrack, and love them. Or maybe that was your own personal, biased opinion. It was just difficult to imagine the crowd not falling for them after proving their worth against the previous champions.

You had seen these men long ago, long before they even qualified for participating in the championship. They had started out small, as most racers do, racing through the sand covered streets of your home town after midnight in rather basic looking karts, going against speed-hungry strangers in these illegal races. You know this because you were there to see it yourself. At first you were simply cheering the racers on from the sidelines, but soon, that wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel the hot wind brush against your own skin, feel the world become a speeding blur, your heart hammer in your chest from euphoria. It had been so addicting.

You never quite managed to get more than a few words with them, though, despite the team spirit always being there. It was good fun, and rarely ever did anyone encounter a particularly sour loser, or a troublemaker. 

Memories of those times always tasted so sweet, but there was a nagging, bitter aftertaste at the knowledge that you didn’t get to properly bond with those friendly racers you looked up to. It particularly bothered you to not have been able to really introduce yourself to the smaller of the two Norms, who always seemed to have a thing for keeping his mouth shut, and his face shoved inside one of the books he always carried with himself, even to the races.

Dreams of friendship had been cut off from the root way too soon, as suddenly as the thunder strikes in the dangerous, chaotic cities high in the sky, further South. 

A talent scout found the Norms on a fateful, victorious night, and almost immediately got them off the illegal races. You can still vividly remember the way the mysterious man had pulled them aside. You still can see, if you try hard enough, the way the taller Norm crossed his arms over his wide chest, and the way the smaller one eyed both men with an unsure expression, face barely lit by the bright satellites shining overhead in the dark sky, and the fluorescent, blue lights on the street. Soon, they were nowhere to be found. You had, for quite some time, thought that maybe that man had been a cop, pretending to be scouting out some talent to throw them into a cell. It seemed unlikely, seeing as you and the rest of the other racers kept going with your lives without any setbacks, but it was still a nagging thought. You never did like that disturbing way the mysterious man moved his flat, pointy nose around, as if he were sniffing the air, fangs poking from under a perpetually displeased, sneering snout.

It’s true, you never really got to tell them your name yourself. But you were halfway sure that if they were to see you again, they’d find a welcome, familiar face, a sort of companion from the past, from times that didn’t look nearly as bright as the present. For them, at least.

Bright, because they were making all of their opponents bite the dust, as one of the best teams Fenomena had seen in years. They were sure to break records, to set the bar up high for the rest, they were sure to place themselves at the top of the winner board as they aced race after race. You had already seen the stadium explode with both glee and outrage at their surprising, consecutive victories yesterday, and it only fueled your pride as you cheered for them in one of the cheapest seats you could find, ignoring the insults thrown their way by a couple of shady people far too close to your ears for comfort. You were sure there was some dirty money controlling things down on the racetrack, and could only hope that if this championship was already “settled”, then neither of the Norms got hurt for being stubborn in their desire to take home the honor of being the best racers in the entire planet.

You lifted your gaze from the ground after realizing you were lost in thought, seeing through the large monitor hanging from the ceiling as they ran a long montage of the best moments of the championship so far. It was a way to pass the time until the next race started, for which they still had an hour to go (you checked the many clocks on the walls to be sure, despite there being a countdown on the monitor itself). 

You looked around, seeing people of all shapes and sizes go about the endless halls of the stadium, chatting excitedly as they made their way to the many doors that lead to their reserved seats. You could hear them compare every racer to the other, sing out stats they had so very diligently memorized from the transmissions the night before, could hear some low, bitter whispers of the races being rigged. It was noisy, full of life and colorful, a distant image of what the place usually looked like on the daily.

You turned your face again to the monitor, and smiled faintly when you caught the welcome sight of a zoomed in video of your personal favorites winning one of yesterday’s races, grins as wide as they could go on their pale faces, genuine pride taking a hold of their facial features. You shook your head. There was no point in staring at an image, when the real deal was waiting for you. Well, not waiting for you per se...

You just happened to know exactly where they let the racers relax before and after races, but most importantly, you knew exactly where the smaller Norm ran off to when he thought no one else was looking, during their free time in the stadium. Unlike the lounge, that place wasn’t off limits to the public (not that you were considered “public” during this season). You were thankful for his apparent need to recharge in another way that wasn’t simply laying down and taking a nap or eating a snack - what he needed was peace and quiet, and to let his imagination take him elsewhere. You were also thankful that the job you took up here (after finding out there was a chance of seeing them again at the championship) allowed you enough spare time to wander around freely - as long as you joined your assigned, massive team to leave the stadium spotless after the races were done, no one in charge had any real reason to scold you. It was also worth thanking your culture’s good habits of not overly messing whatever space they were occupying, or else you supposed this job would be much more of a pain in the ass. 

You started to make your way down the halls hastily, turning left, turning right, eyeing the lanky, yet menacing guards patrolling here and there. Safety first, after all, and you lowered your head politely as they walked by, not receiving much of an acknowledgement.

You finally went through a large double door, located near the entrance to the VIP seating section, and stepped inside the "Great Hall of Trophies". You kept walking, instinctively eyeing the guarded door that led almost directly to the racer’s lounge, and hurried past. You could see tourists here and there admiring the large glass cases displaying trophies, medals, statues, holograms of victories - a wide variety of tangible memories of past champions. But what was truly hard to ignore, was the endless, remarkably tall wooden structures placed against the walls further into the large room, that held book after book, not only containing the history of racing in relation to Fenomena, but also world history, science, arts, and classic literature among other genres. It did double as a cultural center after all, and it showed in the vast library it offered to the general public. It was possibly one of the largest libraries the continent had to offer, and it was one of the few things _ Khuurai _ prided itself in.

You tried to not look directly at the top of the colossal bookshelves, crowned with winged statues that seemed ready to leap down from their nests, as it nearly made you dizzy. You had time to sightsee later, after all.

You finally reached the end of the room, encountering the door you were looking for, briefly reading the copper nameplate on the wood that read: “Botanical Garden A”.

You pushed the heavy doors open, trying to not make too much noise, and closed them after yourself quietly, leaving the great hall behind. 

As you turned around, the first thing that caught your eye was the blue, sweet luminescence emanating from the flora just to your right. Before it, bolted to a low, thin column placed right where the concrete floor met dirt, was a golden nameplate that described the plants in detail, along with its scientific name. For as far as your eyes could see, this was the way the garden was displayed. Beautiful life, intriguing scientific sidenote. It was lovely, but you were on a mission, and the plants weren’t going anywhere any time soon, firmly attached to the ground as they were.

You walked along the path, the bioluminescence casting shadows on your face, and you stopped on your tracks once you encountered what you were looking for.

There, sitting cross legged on the ground in front of a display of giant vines in bloom, was the smaller Norm. You cautiously took a step back, partially hiding your face behind a plant you had never seen before, with large, purple leaves spreading out and upwards, as if it made you invisible. At least he hadn’t seemed to have noticed.

You smiled faintly at the way he squinted his eyes at the pages of the book he was holding on his lap, his teeth gently nibbling on his bottom lip, hyper focused. You wondered what it was that he was so absorbed reading about, and in wondering about this, you almost didn’t notice the way his clear eyes lifted from the page for just a moment, casting a glance your way before lowering it back down.

So he _ had _noticed.

The way his curious eyes had looked at you had almost made your heart beat a little faster in your chest. Almost.

You considered just standing there to observe him for a while more, but it seemed obvious that he would start to feel uncomfortable if you did such a thing. But it also was obvious just how little thought out this plan had been, now that he had acknowledged your presence, and you had no words to explain what you were even doing there, briefly watching him from afar. If he had recognized you, he made no attempt to show it. Or maybe the large leaf really did make it hard for him to really tell who was looking his way.

After a moment of deliberation, you stepped away from the plant to approach him, seeing him not lift his eyes from his book for the brief seconds it took you to stand right in front of him. Only then, did he really lift his eyes, careful to place his index on the last paragraph he had read.

“Hey there,” You smiled, seeing him blink a few times, as if confused. Then, his eyes seemed to widen slightly, and he returned your smile, lifting a hand to wave as a hello. Oh, he definitely remembered you. Or at the very least, found your face to be familiar. “I don’t know if you remember me, but we used to race a few years back. Remember those midnight races in the desert? I was never able to beat you guys on a single race,” You grinned, trying to come off as friendly, and he nodded happily, his own smile showing a hint of teeth. “I really thought I’d never see you guys again. I’d been cheering you on from the crowd since this started, just like before. You both are doing amazing,” you chuckled, seeing him give a small shrug, as if he were trying to look like it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Then, there was silence, and you wondered if he just had nothing to say, or if you just weren’t that good with small talk.

“Anyway…” you bit your lip, seeing him just blink at you. “What are you reading?”

He smiled again at that, and he took a look at the page he was at before shutting the book, and turning it on his hands to show you the cover. The title was impossible to make out, with fainted words that seemed to be in another language you didn’t quite recognize. 

“Can I take a look?” you asked, curious to know if the pages could offer any hint of its real contents, and he nodded excitedly as you took a step closer, deciding to sit beside him on the ground and receive the book from his hands. It was heavy, with a poorly kept appearance and yellowish pages that were surprisingly thin when you opened it to take a closer look. It was mostly just gibberish to you, asides from the interesting photographs and drawings, of creatures that looked similar to the people you saw on your everyday life, but not entirely.

“... What language is this?” you wondered out loud, taking a look at his face as he pursed his lips, shifting on the ground slightly to make a circle with both of his hands, and a gesture that was meant to be understood as _ ‘outside’ _ . “... Not from here? Is it from another continent entirely?” you said, seeing him shake his head at that and repeat the gesture, making it more dramatic. “Oh, you mean it’s not from our planet?” he gave you an excited nod, and you lowered your eyes back down to the pages, amazed to be holding a piece of an alien civilization. “And you can _ read _this?” you asked with awe, seeing him nod again. “That’s amazing!” he shrugged at that, failing at his attempt to not smile, an action that made you chuckle. “Oh, don’t be modest. It’s incredible.” 

He lifted a hand to the back of his neck, visibly embarrassed by the compliment. It seemed this was definitely something he didn’t mind being complimented on, seeing as his reaction was a lot more positive than the one he exhibited when you complimented his racing, and also more honest.

“What is it about?” you inquired then, trying to mentally tie together all the images displayed in the book, not quite making out any correlation.

He got closer to you to sort through the pages of the book in your hands, looking for a specific page near the beginning of it to point at it. There were aliens dressed in strange clothes, stranger than the ones you could see in other images of the same book, with wide smiles and strange markings on their faces. From the image, it was hard to tell if these were markings on their actual skin, or something else entirely. They seemed to be having fun, or trying to make others have fun, and the several objects placed here and there gave you a vague sense of what could be going on.

“Is this about alien games?” you guessed, seeing him lift his hand to extend his fingers and rotate it a few times, following the motion born from the wrist, a clear ‘_ something like that _’.

He stood up then, picking up four medium sized rocks from the dirt behind the both of you, and quickly pointed to one of the aliens on the book page, the strangest looking one. The image was in grey scale, but it seemed apparent the alien’s attire was meant to be quite colorful, or at the very least, visibly chaotic.

Norm took a few steps back and threw the four rocks up into the air, one by one, making your heart clench in your chest. You just hoped he knew what he was doing.

His expression changed to one of focus, as he caught each rock one by one almost effortlessly, making them jump into the air again and again, almost in a rhythm, never losing sight of them. It was exciting to see just how skilled he was at this, and it drew a smile on your face just to see him look so determined in keeping the rocks jumping and falling, hypnotically so, until he caught the four of them in his hands and smiled widely to you.

You began clapping instantly, before you even knew what you were doing.

“That was amazing!” you told him, and he bowed deeply and dramatically, pinning a single thought in your mind. “So these are performers.”

He threw the rocks back in the dirt before giving you a brief thumbs up, his eyes shining with something you had never seen before in him, not even while reading a book. He approached you then, pointing a finger at the same figure as before, to then open and close his hand rapidly, mimicking the act of speaking with it. You nodded. Then, he pointed to the other figure in the book, one with clothes not as strange as the other, but with similar strange markings on their face. He brought his hand to his mouth then, made a motion to mimic the act of zipping it shut, locking it, and throwing away the key. You chuckled softly, understanding the base idea he was trying to get across.

“This type of performer doesn’t speak?” you ventured a guess, and saw him smile lightly before pointing at himself with a meaningful look in his eyes. “... Like you,” you said slowly, seeing him nod. It was a little funny, how it hadn’t really occurred to you that he wasn’t _ able _to speak a word, as opposed to simply keeping quiet on his own accord. “Huh…” you nodded slowly, processing that bit of information while he walked back to the same spot where he had juggled the rocks. 

He waited until your attention was fully on his figure again, before clasping his hands behind his back and beginning to walk in circles. He did this until his face slammed against an invisible wall, his hands quickly darting up to it in pain, feet staggering back. It looked so well acted out that you weren’t sure whether to laugh, or be worried he was in genuine pain. He stopped backing up when he met a new wall, his back pressed against it, his hands feeling its hardness slowly before looking back, seemingly seeing what he was imagining. He unglued himself from that wall, walked ahead, bumped into another wall that was much closer than it had been before, his face slowly turning into one of panic as he repeated the process again and again, backing up, moving forward, until he seemed to be trapped in a tiny enclosed space, feet and arms trying to stop the walls from fully closing against his small body.

“Oh no,” you laughed, seeing his eyes shift around as if he were searching for an exit from his tiny enclosure, body nearly contorted from the effort of comfortably fitting in the box. 

After a moment of deliberation, he seemed to finally realize the top of it was removable, and so he pushed open the lid of the box and climbed out rapidly, tripping and falling back on his own ass while he was at it. This brought out a new laugh from your own belly, one that didn’t stop until he wiped off the imaginary sweat from his forehead, and gave a chuckle of his own while he sat on the floor. It sounded off, not quite like any other laugh you had heard before from a person capable of speaking - it was raspy, seemingly breathless, akin to a wheeze - but for some reason, it simply seemed like the most adorable laugh you had ever heard.

He got off the ground and dusted off his clothes, the weak pink on his skin betraying his slight embarrassment at whatever he saw in your intense eyes. He approached you again, taking a seat back on his spot. He turned his body around slightly, and dug a finger on the dirt behind the both of you, dragging it along to write something in your own alphabet.

“Mime,” you muttered once he was finished, reading the familiar characters. "Is that the name of this type of silent performer?" you asked, and he nodded as a yes, visibly glad that you were able to understand him nearly effortlessly. “How did you even get this book?” you turned the now closed book around in your hands, passing it back to the thoughtful guy. He put it down on the ground, held out his empty hands in front of him, and put on a serious, intense face as he mimicked the act of driving so convincingly, that it almost seemed like you were simply watching him drive a real kart. “By racing?” you asked confused, but he nodded, stopping the act. “You mean, this was some sort of prize?”

He stuck out his hand like he had done before, rolling semi-circles from his wrist a few times, letting you know you were kind of right, but also kind of wrong. He didn’t try explaining any further, though, so you were left to wonder about it on your own.

There was a moment of silence then, in which the subtle sounds of activity at the other side of the door were audible. You could hear a bored child starting to cry, a distressed father hushing it, hurried footsteps, comforting words. Could hear the soft way Norm was breathing as his gaze lingered on a large flower you had only seen in books, supposedly carnivorous. You hadn’t realized your own gaze was fixed on him until he turned to look at you, clear eyes curious. You just blinked, unable to look away from those clear, pretty eyes.

He broke eye contact to turn to write on the dirt again, his finger dragging on the soft surface until he had written a simple word in your language. 

“Norm,” you muttered as you read it out loud, seeing him point that same finger at himself. Of course, you already knew his name, but he had no way of knowing that, or knowing yours for that matter. So, he pointed at you next, looking at you in such a way that hinted he was asking a question.

“Oh,” you smiled, seeing his expectant expression. You gave him your name, and his lips stretched into a smile, his right hand darting towards you to offer it. You chuckled, taking his hand in yours to shake it a few times quite vigorously. “It’s nice to properly meet you, Norm,” you said, hearing him make that soft chuckle again, his eyes squinting slightly at the action and looking as if they were smiling as well, genuine and soft. It was really nice to look at. _ He _was really nice to look at.

You both turned your faces towards the entrance when you heard the doors opening and the subsequent footsteps, and soon you were met by a slightly concerned face making their way towards you both.

“There you are!” It was the taller Norm, who stopped just a meter away to place both hands on his hips to look down at the both of you from above. “Thought you’d be here. We’re getting all set up, hurry up before they disqualify us for being late,” he nagged the smaller Norm, but his face didn’t quite look displeased. He looked amused, as if the smaller one’s complete disinterest entertained him, and his smile only got larger when his smaller friend rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath. “Don’t give me attitude, you know I can’t do this without you, buddy.”

You saw the guy beside you stand up from the ground and dust off his pants, before picking the book up in his hands. He started following the taller guy immediately, but not before stopping and looking back at you with a look between apologetic and disappointed.

“Go make them bite the dust. I’ll be watching and cheering you on!” you tried being supportive, and he smiled at that, giving you a small nod before trailing after his friend and going through the doors, leaving you by yourself.

It felt like he had taken something with him the moment he left, as if the beautiful, nature filled room lacked a certain light that the plants themselves weren’t really able to provide.

You stood up from your spot, taking one last look at the name Norm had written on the dirt, knowing that at the very least, you had managed to achieve your goal. Now it was time to watch them win, because of course they would.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think so far, down in the comment section! I would greatly appreciate the feedback on the work itself :)  
I'm on twitter: https://twitter.com/DoppioBandicoot  
My new curiouscat, in case you rather drop an anon message there: https://curiouscat.me/DoppioBandicoot


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